


Unexpected

by lilyconrad



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Eventual Smut, M/M, Prostitute Anakin, Sexual Content, Top Anakin Skywalker, cursing, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7467396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyconrad/pseuds/lilyconrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is on Tatooine looking for Force-sensitive children. Instead, he finds a handsome prostitute his age named Anakin, a young man who almost glows with the Force and yet refuses Obi-Wan's offer to return with him to Coruscant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate universe where Obi-Wan and Anakin are much closer in age, and was inspired by a few powerful lines from Mithrigil's amazing fic [By the Lies that I Have Loved (and actions I have hated)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7413181). 
> 
> "Anakin could have been this. Done this. Did this, in another capacity, before Qui-Gon brought him to the Order. How many young people turn to prostitution on Tatooine?"
> 
> The whole story is wonderful, but those few lines really stayed with me and led to this one-shot. Thank you, Mithrigil, for writing so beautifully!
> 
> And a big thank you as always to [Fireflyfish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflyFish/pseuds/FireflyFish) for her editing and ideas along the way! <3
> 
> My Tumblr: [writegowrite](http://writegowrite.tumblr.com/)

Tatooine was not known to be a particularly welcoming place for anyone, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi reminded himself as sand scoured his ship’s windows, gale-force winds hissing loudly as the sandstorm scraped along his parked cruiser and rocked it back and forth in place. _All of this is not just for me._

But it felt like it. He had barely touched down on the planet’s surface for his first visit and had already gone through an unexpected meteor shower in orbit, an attempted attack by some large worm-like creature out in the flats his designated landing pattern had brought him in over, and now the wretched sand itself was trying to pry its way in to get him just a few minutes after landing.

 _You are being foolish, and petulant,_ the dutiful, stoic part of his mind chided him. _The Council was right to put you on this Force-forsaken detail for what you pulled with Qui-Gon. Just be glad it’s only one rotation._

He thought about his former master doing exactly what he was doing right now: making the once-a-decade round of groups of the most inhospitable, distant planets in known space. Spending months looking for Force-sensitive children. The future of the Jedi order.

 _And no one ever finds any out this far. It’s just a punishment detail._ Obi-Wan sighed and stretched out in his pilot chair, watching the dry clouds of sand outside drift by like ocean currents. The holomap in this ship was 2D, and he had to tilt the black screen up from the com console to see what it said. An angry, abstract red weave of points and lines sat directly above the green dot that marked the ship, moving painfully slowly from east to west. _I have at least another twenty minutes in here._

He pushed it back flat and rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. _Middle of nowhere, a ship that looks older than Master Yoda himself._

 _But it’s lower profile. Safer in dicey places like this,_ logic argued.

_I don’t have to like it. What I wouldn’t give for a proper bed with some proper tea._

Allowing that last bit of complaining to come and go, doing his best to send the thought on its way without dwelling on it, he rose and stretched. _I could meditate a little. I need to look as relaxed and confident as I can when I get off this ship, given what I’ve heard about the inhabitants here._ The wind continued to howl outside, everything around the ship nothing more than dark blurs lost in an impenetrable, whirling fog.

Obi-Wan walked past the four bunks slotted into the walls and a tiny refresher to the back of the small vessel, where boxes of rations stood carefully strapped in a stack against the rear wall. He picked up a stray silver ration bag and tossed it up on one of the bottom bunks, clearing the only real space he had to sit and meditate.

Sinking down to a cross-legged position, back straight, he folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes. It was sometimes hard to ignore the details of what was around him on this tiny ship: the faint scent of dried fruit from the rations or the occasional random whirring as the climate control adjusted for changes. But meditation was an old friend, always willing to have him back, and soon he felt himself happily lost in a much deeper mist than the storm raging outside.

Calm and peaceful, he reviewed his goals. _Ask and listen for stories of unusual children. They should be younger than ten years old._ This was another giveaway that shoveling a hole out and filling it up again would be just as valid a use of Obi-Wan’s time, he had decided three planets ago. The Council would look askance at an 8 or 9 year-old, even that short of a life likely rife with bonds and attachments already formed. But, at the same time, even they didn’t want to send out expeditions every few years.

 _Such is the way of things_ , he observed, centered in the quiet and stillness of meditation. _There is no changing it._

He finished considering that truth and moved on to the information he knew about the planet, and then his own mind, and was about to lift himself back into the real world when something brushed past his consciousness, something that was not himself.

It was a soft touch, an unconscious one that he was quite familiar with but had never expected out here. _There is a Force-sensitive here. Right in this city. Maybe even on this street!_

Obi-Wan was on his feet before he realized it, pleased to find that the storm had died away during his meditation session. Harsh daylight seared the concrete landing pad his ship sat on with a few others, sand long trails of wisps across the bare asphalt and a truly wretched looking little city beyond that. _This shouldn’t take too long. I think._

 

* * *

 

Despite his initial optimism, the first day of searching under the fierce Tatooine suns had left Obi-Wan far less excited than he had originally been.

What passed for a school here, attended only by the wealthy children of gangsters and merchants of questionable repute, had been his first stop. It was ill-advised to tell natives of his mission given the misunderstandings some had about the recruitment process, so he had presented himself as simply a visiting Jedi interested in local culture.

The teachers had been quite happy to put him on display for their students, and Obi-Wan had gamely taken all of the children’s interesting and sometimes inappropriate questions despite not sensing the slightest bit of Force in any of them. It was good practice remaining diplomatic and impassive, and he enjoyed it. Kids could be a much tougher crowd than a room full of Masters, but the consequences were usually not as bad.

After slipping away when they went to lunch, he continued on his way, walking through the worse parts of the city to the factories and shops where the poorer children would be this time of day. It was difficult to see young ones in lives like this, and he bought a continuous stream of snacks and toys from the ones who chased him with their wares, giving them away to the younger brothers and sisters that followed and pretending not to notice when the older ones ran ahead around corners to step out and sell the same things to him again.

Nothing. None of them had any Force sensitivity or interesting stories to tell about friends or siblings that did. _I don’t understand. I know that feeling. There is a child here somewhere that is Force-sensitive._

Dusk found Obi-Wan walking back into what was allegedly the nicer part of town by the spaceport, the suns low red and orange embers against the horizon.

On a whim, he decided to try reaching out with the Force again. The world pressed close against him for a moment: the arid tang of sand and adobe walls, the luscious red of the last sun slipping below the desert, the feel of the worn street below him. And then it was gone in a lovely drift of light and calm.

A faint glimmer caught his attention, and he turned, letting the Force recede back into the depths of his mind.

The Force-sensitive was behind him, somewhere on this road.

He drew his hood back, peering into the long stretch of modest buildings and dimness behind him. Faint orange and white spilled out from a few open windows, but the only person he saw was a tall figure leaned up against a wall. A young human man like him, from the silhouette.

Sand crickets began to call out in the purple dusk, faint chirps the only sound as he watched the shadow and felt the shadow watching him.

Sensing no danger, Obi-Wan began to walk back toward him, wondering if he was the older brother of the child the Jedi had sensed. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah?”

“May I ask you something?”

“Sure.” The young man stood up straight, arms folded, as Obi-Wan came to stand in front of him.

The dim lamps of a nearby shop stuttered and turned on, flooding them from above with a warm, weak light that revealed a handsome man a handful of years younger than Obi-Wan and several inches taller. But it wasn’t the fine line of his jaw or the impressive outline of his shoulders or even the snug fit of his dark clothing that held Obi-Wan’s attention in that initial moment.

_He’s the Force-sensitive I felt on the ship._

There was no question about it. The Force swirled with incredible power around the stranger, half-tamed and half-hidden, the unmolded instincts of a small child given a thunderstorm to ride.

In life there are rare instants of perfect clarity, where a thousand things are realized at once and in the worst cases bring with them an equal amount of heartbreak and regret. And for Obi-Wan this was one of the worst of those moments in his young but eventful life: the man’s clothing, his accent, his knowing grin all came together to form a horrifyingly clear picture.

Here was an innocent son of Tatooine, somehow missed by the Order when it had passed through the last time, gifted with powers he didn’t understand, no one to guide him, and a world likely out of his control.

An attractive young man with this much raw, unschooled ability to influence others would have found it all too easy to drift into this sort of profession in a city that had little else to offer. Highly gifted Force-sensitives not found in time rarely had happy endings: reckless living, crime, and addictions for the lucky, the unlucky often enslaved by the first professional gamblers or crime syndicate to find them.

It was clear which particular ending this stranger’s story had, and in a brief moment of pure emotion, Obi-Wan loathed the entire Order for utterly, abysmally failing him all those years ago.

“Are you lost?” the man asked, misinterpreting the sadness on Obi-Wan’s face as he hurriedly fought it back out of sight. “Or just need some company?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and shook his head to get rid of the last, most rebellious of his thoughts: _Who came here? Who should have found you?_ “I am not lost, but I would like to talk to you.”

“Would you?”

 _Would the Temple give shelter to someone this old?_ Obi-Wan didn’t know, but he could at least bring him back and present him for their consideration as a charity case. _He could work the docking bay or the kitchens. Something._

“Yes. What’s your name, if I may ask?”

_I have to try. This will only end badly for him, as strong as he is. And we owe him for missing him. We owe him so much._

“I’m Anakin.” The youth took another step closer, confident and relaxed, their two shadows pooled together in the light of the lamps overhead. His eyes, light but their true color hidden in the deep shadows, wandered up and down Obi-Wan approvingly. “What do you want to talk about, ah…?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“We can talk about anything you want, Obi-Wan.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan opened his mouth to continue and felt the words die away as Anakin reached out to trace a finger along the folded layers of his collars. Over his colorful career defending the Republic Obi-Wan had been threatened by enemies sneering right into his face, holding weapons to his throat, a rare few even making lewd insinuations about what they would do to him, and yet none of those things ruffled his inner calm like this soft, gentle gesture from a man he’d just met.

He struggled to regain his train of thought and the weighty speech he was going to have to give. “Anakin, I…”

“Don’t be shy. Come on.” Anakin tilted his head to indicate a small, unremarkable door just down off the side-alley he stood in front of, one dark rectangle of many set into the rough collection of walls and pipes. “We can talk in there.”

Obi-Wan followed him wordlessly, puzzled and unsettled at how strongly he’d reacted to the simple touch of Anakin’s hand on his chest. _This is dangerous. I don’t know how much of it is his untrained abilities and how much is me being alone far too long on this mission or whatever but this is most definitely_ not _a good idea._ There was also the problem of the younger man’s attractiveness, hanging over his thoughts like the faint, warm glow of the suns already set.

_I just need time to think of what to do... what to say._

What Obi-Wan could see of the apartment they stepped into was reassuring in its small size: at least he wasn’t about to be robbed by Anakin and half a dozen of his closest friends. The cozy one-room unit was tidy, a few old pillows for sitting on the floor and a bed tucked into the corner, a sheet hung to block off a back corner that gave no sense of anything living and lying in wait behind it. A small, repurposed mechanic’s light hung from overhead, covered in a flimsi-cover that cast everything in soft light.

“You have to be hot in all of that.” Anakin’s voice was almost in his ear as he closed the door and reached up from behind Obi-Wan to gently unfasten his cloak and pull it off.

Obi-Wan stopped himself from batting Anakin’s hands away as they slid off his shoulders, reminding himself to be calm and impassive, that he was here to try to help. “Anakin, I need you to listen to what I am about to tell you. This is important.”

Anakin paused, arms stretched out to hang the cloak on a hook, and Obi-Wan could hear a faint note of questioning disapproval. “You’re not one of those crazy religious missionaries, are you?”

“No.” _Would the Order count as that if you’d never heard of it before?_ Obi-Wan decided to ponder that particular question later and watched with relief as Anakin returned to hanging his cloak up. “I’m a Jedi.”

This got Anakin’s attention, but this time it was a laugh and renewed interest that greeted Obi-Wan’s words. “Oh, really? I’ve never met one of you.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan began, and then Anakin was close, too close, his pretty eyes-- _blue, they’re blue--_ intent on Obi-Wan and his hands on his shoulders once again.

“Should I call you ‘Master’?”

A furious blush rose to Obi-Wan’s cheeks and he took a step back, but Anakin moved with him, a confident lead dancer staying close to his partner, and his low, inviting tone just as intense as his gaze. “Well, what do you say, ‘Master’? Want to have some fun?”

Obi-Wan wanted to push him away, to run out into the street and all the way back to his ship, where things were dark and empty and blue eyes didn’t beckon him into imaginings best left for silent nights alone in space.

But he could only bring a hand up to rest on Anakin’s chest, not even the willpower left to do more than gently press against the soft cloth of his shirt and the firmness beneath. “No, I’m not here for that. I can help you,” he managed, and regretted it as soon as the honey of Anakin’s voice changed to something sharper.

“Help me? How are you going to help me?” Anakin leaned back out of his personal space, and Obi-Wan sighed in tortured relief. He wanted him far away, he wanted him closer, he didn’t know what he wanted.

“You have Force abilities.”

“Huh... I guess a Jedi would pick up on that kind of thing. So what?”

“You need help with them.”

This brought a snort, Anakin’s eyes narrowing. “I don’t need help with anything.”

“If you don’t learn how to control these powers they will bring you harm, Anakin. They could kill you.”

“I’ve learned to control them just fine, thank you.”

Obi-Wan assessed the situation rapidly getting away from him and took a chance on instinct. “How much do you charge for one night?”

Tilting his head, a mirror of Obi-Wan’s attempts to read him, Anakin folded his arms and leaned back against the plain bulk of the door. “125 for the night.”

“I’ll give you 250 to talk with me about this. Just to talk. I’ll leave when I’m done and you can keep all of the money. It’s very important you understand all of this. There’s a chance the Temple can help you...”

 _Wrong choice_ , Obi-Wan realized with an inward cringe as Anakin drew up to stand at his full height, strong shoulders set in a rigid line _._ “Help me? Help me?! I don’t need your pity money, Jedi. Get the hell out and--”

“Wait. I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t pity you. I swear. I just want to help.” Qui-Gon had once told Yoda that his apprentice could talk a Rancor out of eating him if he had to: Obi-Wan Kenobi, the silver-tongued Jedi some on the Council were starting to call the Negotiator. _So why is nothing coming out right?_

“And how exactly are you going to help? Toss me some credits and then jet back off to Coruscant? ‘Look at the poor little whore. Here, have some scraps.’”

“No, I don’t mean it like that at all,” Obi-Wan answered, keeping his voice calm despite his anger with himself for not handling all of this better. “I could bring you back, I think. Present you before the Council and see if we could take you in. This is a highly unusual situation given your age but they might be able to get you work, and a home somewhere in our Temple. And if they don’t, I will. I promise.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and turned toward the door to open it.

“You won’t even talk to me? For all of those credits?"

Anakin’s answer caught him completely off guard. “You really don’t want me at all, do you?” He sounded angry about this, as if Obi-Wan had personally insulted him.  

“I… that would not be right of me to do,” Obi-Wan heard himself say, understanding instantly that another wrong choice was likely arriving on the heels of the first. “But you are attractive. There is no doubt of that.” He did his best to ignore the bright red heat rising on his cheeks at being forced to admit it so openly.

At least that inconvenient truth was buying him time, he told himself. Anakin saw him blushing, took his hand off the door handle, and seemed to be fighting his own inner battle, opening his mouth and then closing it again without saying anything.

_I’m here for a week. Could I try to earn his trust somehow? Bring him food? Get him to at least talk with me about Coruscant?_

“Are all Jedi as strange as you?”

“Undoubtedly,” Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand through his hair. _I could just buy him for the night. It’s not against the Code. It’s not like I’ve never visited a brothel before when I needed to deal with some tension._

 _That way he won’t feel I’ve insulted him and then maybe he’ll be more open to talking tomorrow morning._ “May I stay if I stop talking about the Temple?” Focusing all of his thoughts on how this would move his agenda forward allowed Obi-Wan to ignore the conflicting emotions driving that agenda. _If he is willing there is nothing wrong with it._ He repeated that to himself as he watched Anakin for his reaction, hoping he hadn’t pushed the handsome youth’s pride too far.

Anakin studied him, tense, and Obi-Wan watched his expressive eyes as if Anakin were telling him exactly what he was thinking. There was the plan to bodily haul him out and slam the door on him, followed by the glance at Obi-Wan’s wallet pouch and the thought that whatever jacked-up tourist price he had told this Coruscanti was a lot of money to put up with him for just a night, and finally a tiny raise of the eyebrows as Anakin decided there were worse companions for that night than a fit, slender Jedi not that much older than him. “Fine. But no more about that. Or I’ll make you forget you ever came in here.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You can mind trick people?”

“Yeah,” he said, still defensive. “I take their money right there on the street, tell them they got what they wanted, and send them on their way. I know you feel so sorry for poor little whore me, Jedi, but I don’t fuck anyone I don’t want to.”

Obi-Wan realized how the conversation had been going earlier, Anakin’s soft voice and quiet touches as he’d led him inside. “So then… ah…” _So then you want to fuck me, then?_ He was genuinely startled by this idea, so alien to his perception of himself.

The unspoken question hung between them, and even as his eyes glittered with pride and anger, Anakin chuckled, amusement beginning to overwhelm those first two emotions. “Yes, ‘Master’.” He licked his lips, just once, the tense set of his jaw daring Obi-Wan to try even as his mouth invited him. “Come on. Make me earn my pay.”

His words drifted to Obi-Wan, teasing with an edge of anger, and the Jedi realized just how alone they were. Two men in the dim quiet of a little room in a small city on one of the loneliest planets he’d ever been to: far away from anyone he knew, anyone who knew Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and the long lists of ideals he was supposed to uphold day in and day out.

Anakin reached out and slid his fingers into Obi-Wan’s belt to slowly pull him closer, whispering his name in his ear. It sent shivers through Obi-Wan to the darkest corners of his heart and body where meditation never quite reached to hear the unspoken promises there: the idea that a beauitful stranger like Anakin could be his for a night, where no one could see and no one could judge the emotions ricocheting around him as Anakin whispered to him again.

“Come on, Master… I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why? Why do you want this?”

“Honestly?” He shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to fuck a Jedi. And you’re not too bad looking.”

Obi-Wan tried not to grimace, embarrassed. “How much?”

“Told you. 125 for the night.”

_I should stop. I should leave and go back to my ship and meditate until my mind is clear again. There must be other ways to build a rapport with him in the time I am here._

_But what if there aren’t? This may be my only chance to get him help._

“All right. 125.”

“Thank you, Master.” Anakin’s flash of anger from earlier was mostly gone now, Obi-Wan sensed, soothed by the fact Anakin was now going to get what he wanted and as a bonus had been able to embarrass Obi-Wan in the process. Obi-Wan found it petty and strangely charming at the same time.

 _He wants this. There is nothing wrong with this._ He tried repeating this to himself as Anakin pulled the layers of his collars apart, bending down to leave one warm kiss after another along his throat and collarbone.

Obi-Wan’s emotions surged, a heady mix of want and doubt and fear and need. _Sex isn’t against the Code, but I shouldn’t do this._

_I want this too much._

_I think I want him too much._

He slid his arms around Anakin’s waist despite his misgivings, pulling him closer.

Their first kiss was long and gentle, Anakin’s welcoming warmth against Obi-Wan, a sun drawing a comet into orbit and slowly, carefully setting it aflame as it spiraled in. As they pulled away, Obi-Wan ran his hands along Anakin’s back, trying to will himself to relax and enjoy the strong muscles he felt there.

“Relax,” Anakin said between more kisses, pleased at the confusion and anxious need he saw in Obi-Wan’s eyes. It felt good to have someone look at him with real desire, not the half-awake itch most of them wanted to scratch with the nearest pretty face.

He pulled loose Obi-Wan’s belt and then the long tabards and tunics draped over the Jedi’s shoulders and tossed them aside, the slow burn of desire increasing with each layer that fell away to the floor. “Where are you in all of this?” he muttered roughly, bringing Obi-Wan’s first small smile of the evening.

“Right here. You wanted a Jedi,” he said in his trademark deadpan, hoping Anakin would play along.

“Hmm… No one said they were going to be this much trouble. Sure I can’t use your lightsaber to cut this stuff off?” And there it was: a light, teasing reply in return. Obi-Wan had been forgiven, at least for now. They would be all right for the evening.

“No, but I will say that is an interesting idea.”

“You should. Look at all of this. Do you guys use the Force to get dressed?”

“I wish.” Obi-Wan felt a lazy wave of lust rising in him with a slow, persistent heat at Anakin’s touches, all of the stripping away of who he normally was. “Keep going, Anakin,” he murmured. “You only have a dozen or so left.” _Pleasure is not forbidden. Only attachment_. _Only attachment._

“Yes, Master,” he purred against Obi-Wan’s throat, turning the smile into a gasp for air as he slid down along his collarbone with his tongue. A minute later, the last tunic slid open beneath his warm hands, and he reached in to feel the lithe lines of Obi-Wan’s chest. “Nice…”

“Your turn.”

“Heh.”

Between more kisses Anakin’s shirt found its way to the floor, a dark pile next to Obi-Wan’s small hill of fabric, as the two drifted quietly and half-naked toward the bed.

Obi-Wan’s heart was pounding as Anakin gently pushed him down to lie back on it, the plain cotton soft against his bare back. “Have you ever…?” he asked, climbing atop of him and lowering his hips to rest against Obi-Wan’s.

The heat there, that lovely hard weight against him not dulled at all by the layers of clothing still between them, was almost too much for Obi-Wan. _God and he hasn’t even started… that… yet._ “Yes, just not… ah… in a while.”

“Just checking… wouldn’t want to be too rough with you, Master,” he grinned, sliding his hand down to rub him through his pants with careless fingers that toyed with the bulge there and then slid away only to return in slow, aimless circles of teasing pressure.

Obi-Wan moaned, barely hearing the words that came out of his own mouth. “Be as rough with me as you like. I’m not made of glass.”

Another little laugh, no mockery in it: just the pleasure of anticipation as all of the possibilities spread before Anakin. He considered a dozen easily as their kisses grew harder and deeper: there was so much he wanted to do with this excellent distraction from his daily life: a strange, shy Jedi, an earnest young man who didn’t seem to be aware of how handsome he was.

But despite Obi-Wan’s reassurances, Anakin decided to be gentle, not only for Obi-Wan but because deep in the haze of his lust, he recognized there was a dark thread of danger in letting his unexpectedly deep passion for this man completely overtake him.

Just as he felt when he raced his tiny hunk of junk or when he fought those that mistook him for an easy victim, Anakin felt an invisible line waited for him just out of sight as he and Obi-Wan lay tangled together, a line that he would not be able to come back from once crossed.

He had never been to the other side of that line in anger or in lust, never seen the dark and terrifying country that waited there for him if he let his emotions rage freely, but the way he felt hearing Obi-Wan beg for him he wondered how close he was.

“Please, Anakin.”

_Fuck him until he screams. Fuck him until he can’t even form words any more._

_No._ He took a deep, steadying breath and touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder, nails light on his skin and giving the barest push to encourage him to roll over. _He doesn’t deserve to be used like that._

Obi-Wan shifted to his stomach, face flushed, and Anakin ran a hand down his back, intrigued by the unknown stories his battle scars suggested. His little nightbird had talons after all, it seemed, and the thought of Obi-Wan fighting with one of those lightsabers he’d seen in action on the HoloNet aroused Anakin even more as he pulled Obi-Wan’s pants free and tossed them aside.

He undid his own and leaned down to plant a long, hot kiss along Obi-Wan’s shoulder, getting a breathy gasp of approval as the length of him brushed against Obi-Wan’s thighs.

“Is this what you want, Master?” he asked, each word a puff of warm air against the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. The fine auburn hairs there rose, and Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s nipples harden under his roaming hand as he pulled up on his chest, lifting Obi-Wan to his hands and knees.

“Yes. Please. Please, Anakin.”

_I have to stay in control. I can’t hurt him._

_My very own Jedi._

_Mine._

They were careful and delicate and considerate as they began, both aware on a level deeper than where words dwell how dangerous this night could be for the neat, settled loneliness of their respective existences. They whispered and touched and slowly, oh so slowly, drew together, the comet falling into the heat of the sun and burning away in pleasure as they found their rhythm together.

It was like discovering daylight after a lifetime of darkness, and they strained together once and then again toward the blinding light with sighs and moans and pleas.

Moving from the bed to the floor and now back again, unable to stop, they struggled to remind themselves of what they had promised, their silent warnings to not let go. Anakin tried to imagine that unseen line and what waited beyond it as Obi-Wan’s wet, warm mouth closed on his, and Obi-Wan tried to recall the simple lines of the Jedi Code as Anakin pushed inside him for the second time.

It didn’t matter.

By the time Anakin broke his vow, savagely pounding into the perfect man below him with a fierce, endless lust, Obi-Wan welcomed him with breathless, inarticulate moans, the Code and the Order and everything in the galaxy forgotten save Anakin and his heat and his body and his dark, intent eyes as he growled “Mine,” over and over again.

Later, as they lay together dazed and half-asleep, each spoke only once, simple words that belied their immense weight.

“Come back with me.”

“I will.”


End file.
